Flan for Christmas
by lbindner
Summary: Everyone loves giving Flan to Diego for Christmas.


Flan for Christmas

by Linda Bindner

For KatieZfan: Merry Christmas 2016!

Alejandro carefully took the basket from Jose, who had to work extra hard to keep the spirited horses hitched to his wagon under his control. "Thank you, Jose! You shouldn't have," the aged Don said as the horses snorted and plunged in the wagon harness.

Jose yanked on the reins, straining to pull the newly broken horses to the side and off balance. "Of course I should have, Don de la Vega!" Jose argued once he had the horses calm again. "We wouldn't have had nearly as good a year as we did if not for you and Don Diego."

Don Alejandro merrily scoffed. "Nonsense. It was nothing, Jose. You know that."

Jose merely smiled. "It meant so much to my family. I can never repay you, but I figure this is a start." He gestured towards the cloth covered basket in Alejandro's hands. "Besides, Julietta knows how much Don Diego loves flan. She insisted."

"I'll be sure to tell him that it's her special flan. I doubt that this will last much past supper. Again, thank you!" Alejandro smiled and waved as Jose let the half-broken horses break into a fast trot as he drove away. He then carefully peaked under the basket's white cloth covering, sauntering slowly to the hacienda's front door.

The smell of fresh baked flan hit his nostrils, and he inhaled appreciatively. The door slammed behind him, shutting out the unseasonably warm air of a California December. He called for his son as he went. "Diego. I have something for you. Diego!" He glanced up to see Diego lounging in his favorite chair in the library, reading. "Ah, there you are! Taking it easy after this morning's adventure, I see."

Diego grimaced. "I hardly call searching for hours in this heat for Constanza's lost calf an adventure, Father! We're lucky we got through those brambles in Perdito Canyon, to say nothing of how torn up Esperanza's favorite saddle blanket is now!"

It was Alejandro's turn to grimace. "Favorite blanket, my left eye! You spoil that horse, Diego, and you know it!"

"There's nothing wrong with a little spoiling," Diego gamely argued with his father. "She behaves better for me when I use that blanket than any other. I can't explain it. And you always said that you wanted me to give way to a female," he pointed out with humor tinging his voice.

"Yes, but I didn't mean for the female in question to be your horse!" Alejandro gave his head a shake in mock anger. "I can't believe I raised a son who caters to an animal."

That was when Diego noticed the basket in his father's hands. "What have you got there, Father?"

Alejandro carefully set the basket on a conveniently empty side table. "Julietta sent you some flan for Christmas."

"Me? Why me?" Diego curiously asked as he came close for a better inspection of the basket's contents.

Alejandro slyly eyed his son. "She's sweet on you."

"Father!" Diego chastised in distress. "She's a married woman!"

Alejandro laughed. "Diego, Diego! It's for all of us, for Christmas!"

Diego sent Alejandro a dry look. "Why didn't you say so in the first place?"

"Because I know how much you like flan. I bet I hardly get any of this."

As if to prove his father's fears correct, Diego grabbed the basket by its handle, pulling a spoon out of a pocket in his vest at the same time. "Get yourself a plate of it now while you can," he suggested. "The rest is mine."

Alejandro looked in astonishment at the implement in his son's hand. "You carry a spoon with you?" he asked in incredulity.

Diego knowingly eyed his father. "Of course, ever since the beginning of December! You never know when a good flan will beg to be eaten."

The look that Alejandro now sent towards Diego was fully irritating. "Perhaps it's _you_ who's sweet on Julietta."

Diego shot a look at his father that was half amused, half scathing. "I'm sweet on her flan," he testily replied.

"If you're not careful, Victoria will get jealous."

Diego's following snort belied what his father had just predicted. "Whose recipe do you think Julietta is using? Victoria has no worries; her flan is still my all-time favorite."

"I'm sure she's gratified to know that it's her flan that's your favorite, not her."

Diego saucily licked his spoon after scooping some of the sweet flan right out of the middle of the caramel flavored, pan-sized dessert. "Victoria has no equal."

Alejandro rolled his eyes. "You mean that her flan has no equal."

"Victoria knows how to reach a man's heart."

"So a way to a man's heart is through his stomach, eh?"

Diego grinned. "Precisely. Julietta has just ensured that she's one of my heros for the next year."

"And Victoria?"

"If she bakes me a flan again this year... and even if she doesn't... then she's my hero for the next decade."

"And Zorro?"

Diego grinned for a third time. "He's everyone's hero every day; you know that."

"Just checking," Alejandro said on a laugh, and disappeared to find a plate for his slice of Julietta's special flan.

Z Z Z

"Zorro!" Victoria enthusiastically greeted several hours later. The darkness of night met her as she held her kitchen door open wide enough for him to enter. "What brings you to the pueblo?"

"I couldn't wait until Christmas next week to gaze upon your lovely face." Zorro's smile sparkled in his eyes as he quickly entered and kissed her cheek.

Blushing, Victoria shut the door. "Zorro! There's nothing special about my face!"

He kissed her other cheek. "It's divine even when it's covered in flour, like it is now."

"Oh!" Victoria quickly rubbed at the flour still marring her skin. "That must be from the tortillas that Maria and I made earlier this evening."

"Tortillas?" Zorro asked with a sniff at the aromatic air. "Then why do I smell flan?"

"Oh, I made that this afternoon, for Diego."

Zorro raised his eyebrows under the mask. "For Diego? Should I be jealous?"

Victoria giggled, though she didn't negate his words... not exactly. "I make it every year for Diego; he likes it so well!"

Zorro's brows rose a second time as he continued to tease. "Every year? Are you sure that I shouldn't be jealous?"

Victoria giggled once more as she simultaneously kissed his cheek. "Diego is my best friend, but I love you."

"And if I turn out to be Diego?"

"Then I will love Diego." She kissed his other cheek in exactly the same way that he had kissed hers the minute before.

Smiling, he grabbed a spoon left on the counter to scoop some from the flan sitting on a plate in front of him. "If it turns out that I'm Diego, you've given me hope, Victoria." He licked the spoon with relish.

She balefully eyed him. "What I've given you is some flan, I see."

Zorro gave a mischievous smirk. "Diego doesn't mind sharing. It's Christmas."

"It isn't Christmas until next week."

Zorro whipped something out from under his black sash. "Then I'll just keep this sash that's an early Christmas present meant for y..."

"Zorro!" Victoria breathed as she took the piece of golden material from him and held it up to reflect the firelight. "It's beautiful!" Sparks of light blazed off the tiny bits of gold and silver sewn into the fabric.

"Beautiful material for a beautiful lady." Zorro deftly wound the sash around her waist and tied it in a knot. "Now you can carry a little piece of us with you wherever you go."

"I love it!" Victoria instantly enthused. Then her face fell in a comical swoop. "But I can't wear this. What if it gets dirty in the kitchen? It's too beautiful to wear."

"Wear it anyway," Zorro instructed with a soft smile. "It looks beautiful on you. I knew it would."

Victoria couldn't help the smile that lit her face. "And I admit it; the flan is for you. Diego's is on the other counter."

Zorro glanced over at the slightly smaller plate resting on the far counter. "If Diego knows what's good for him, he'll marry you just for your flan."

"And you?"

Zorro's soft grin grew even softer. "I'm going to marry you for other reasons." He kissed her lips then, not two seconds before Sergeant Mendoza flung the curtains aside and entered the kitchen.

"Señorita Victoria, I... Zorro!"

Without missing a beat, the masked man held out the plate full of flan still sitting at his elbow. "Merry Christmas, Sergeant! Have some flan."

"Is it Señorita Victoria's?"

"Of course."

Mendoza's grin spilled across his features. "Then I don't mind if I do!" He grabbed the spoon and cheerfully bit into some flan. "Salud!"

Zorro couldn't believe that he had a sweet dessert to thank for once again waylaying capture. He owed Victoria his life just for making it.

"There's nothing like a good flan," Mendoza appreciatively mumbled around the food in his mouth.

"So I hear," Zorro agreed, then saucily kissed Victoria one more time. "Preciosa. Our time is always too short. I wish you an early Merry Christmas."

"Thank you for the lovely gift, Zorro," Victoria called after him as he slipped like a shadow into the night.

Victoria searched the dark for one last peak at her love, but Zorro had disappeared. She couldn't even hear Toronado, no matter how carefully she listened.

Her searching was interrupted by a tap on her shoulder. Victoria turned to regard Sergeant Mendoza standing at her elbow, spoon still in hand.

"Pardon me, Señorita, but you don't happen to have any more flan, do you?"

Victoria's tolerant smile bathed her features. Diego had always said the the way to a man's heart was through his stomach; it was certainly the way to Sergeant Mendoza's heart! "Diego promised to meet me at the mission for another pageant rehearsal. It must be about the right time; why don't you carry Diego's plate of flan over for me, some spoons, and ask him to share?"

"Oh, gracias, Señorita! I'll do that!" With a skip, he lifted the plate, grabbed two spoons, and headed for the mission, thinking that since it was almost Christmas, Don Diego might even let him eat half!

Z Z Z

Diego was already at the mission, his guitar resting on his knee as he picked out the melody for one of the songs he planned to accompany in the mission's Christmas pageant the next week.

"Diego!" called Padre Benites as he walked serenely down the aisle between the pews. "It's good to see you practicing already!"

"There's a fairly difficult passage that I wanted to go over one last time before rehearsal started," Diego explained as he played the same notes several more times. "Father and Felipe were tired of hearing me practice at home, so I came here a little early to get a bit more time in with it before I have to play it in front of anybody else." He gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Though my fellow pageant actors may not want to hear it, either, to say nothing of your parishioners."

The Padre chuckled. "Don't be ridiculous. The passages you have trouble with sound good even to my ears, which have heard everything you can imagine."

Diego gave a tolerant laugh. "I'm not that good on the guitar. I wish we could have moved our piano here for the pageant, but we just didn't have time. Maybe I should have written this pageant for violin? I'm much better on that than on guitar."

Benites smiled. "Then remind me next year to ask you to play a solo for Christmas. Perhaps Señorita Escalante can sing while you play. She has a marvelous voice. Have you heard her sing?"

Diego was surprised by this news. "I didn't know that Victoria sings!"

"Only on special occasions," the Padre replied. Then he gave a sudden jump. "Oh, I nearly forgot. Carmen Castiano sent this plate of flan over for you just a bit ago. She won't be joining us, as she has a bad cold, poor child, but she wanted to thank you for all the hard work you've done for the pageant." He drew the plate towards him from where it sat on the front pew and handed it to Diego.

"How nice of her!" Diego took the dessert, but with an anxious expression on his face. "Is she going to be all right?"

"She said that she had already spoken to Dr. Hernandez, who prescribed rest." Benites tucked his hands into his robe in his habitual stance.

Diego gave him a confused glance when he internalized that the Padre had confirmed that she would be absent. "Then who's going to sing her solo part in the second act?"

"I haven't asked yet, but I'm hoping that Señorita Escalante will agree to this last minute change. She has the most practice at remembering things perfectly on short notice, and has the best chance of recalling the notes when the time comes for her to sing."

Diego gazed at the priest in wonder. "Once again, I didn't know this about Victoria. I thought I knew everything about her." He couldn't decide if he was hurt by this revelation, or delighted about it. Mostly, he was astonished that he hadn't heard of it before now.

Suddenly the door flew open, revealing Sergeant Mendoza balancing a plate in his right hand. "Don Diego, look what Señorita Victoria sent you!" With a flourish, he presented the plate of flan.

Diego looked at the plate of flan from Señorita Castiano, then the plate from Victoria, his eyes alight. "Excellent! I love flan!"

"So do I!" Mendoza enthused. "I was hoping that you would share, Don Diego."

Diego wanted to keep both desserts all for himself, but sternly reminded himself that it was definitely better to give than to receive, especially at Christmas. "Of course, Sergeant! Take as much as you want."

"Really? You're too kind!" Mendoza took three large scoops with his spoon. "There's nothing like flan from Señorita Victoria."

Just then, the doors flew open a second time, allowing Victoria and Don Alejandro inside. They were having a spirited conversation while Don Alejandro held aloft a plate of...

"Look Diego: flan!" Alejandro exclaimed as soon he and Victoria neared the altar.

"Imagine that!"

Alejandro didn't miss the enthusiasm in his son's voice. "Ah, no!" he proclaimed, suddenly testy. "You're hoping to keep this all for yourself; I can see it all over your face. But you can forget it! This is mine and Felipe's; I hear that you've got your own. No stealing!" To emphasize his point, he held his plate of flan high over Diego's head.

Diego whined, "Father... are you sure?" He really loved flan, particularly Victoria's. She used a special recipe from her mother that had been used by _her_ mother, and her mother before her. Centuries of Escalantes had perfected the recipe over the years, and he had perfected the art of eating it. Even now, the plate that Victoria had made for Zorro was sitting hidden in the pueblo's stable. It abruptly occurred to Diego to wonder if Mary and Joseph had been given any flan on the Christmas that Jesus was born so long ago. Of course, Mary had been too busy to be eating anything that night, but Joseph, on the other hand...

"That reminds me," said Padre Benites, also clearly thinking about stables. "I wonder if I can speak to Victoria for a moment about our stable nativity pageant."

"Certainly, Padre," Victoria answered, her face alight in curiosity. "Anything for the mission."

The Padre led the young woman off to a corner of the old church to privately entreat her to lend her singing voice to the mission's pageant while the three men delved into the three plates of sweet flan.

Z Z Z

 _The wise men should have brought flan to the birth of baby Jesus_ , Diego thought as he took a spoonful of the dessert before donning Zorro's shirt. He took another spoonful before putting on his right boot, then another before donning the left. He ate three more bites before lifting his mask from the coat rack it hung from, looking at it dubiously. His gaze flitted from the mask, to the flan, and back again. Unbidden, the question rose to his mind: did he _really_ want to go out as Zorro on this cold and rainy night?

Well, now that he thought about it, no. He _really_ wanted to stay home, read by the fire, and eat flan. However, the sighting of the Pasquez brothers in Los Angeles that day had put an early end to his evening relaxation. Since it was less than a week until Christmas, the Alcalde had started to make room in his office safe for the collection of the next year's income tax. The 6000 peso reward money for Zorro was enroute to the Los Angeles bank for safe keeping, as it was every year at this time. But even with lancers on guard duty, the temptation of so much money kept in the bank was too much for some bandits to resist. It was almost a forgone conclusion that the lancers on guard duty at the bank would somehow be lured from their posts by one Pasquez brother so that the other could then rob the safe at the bank that now held 3000 of the original 6000 peso reward for Zorro's capture. It would be much easier to rob the safe in the bank than rob the one in the Alcalde's office. He instinctively knew that's where the robbery would take place, and his instincts had been honed by years of predicting nefarious activity. However, Diego now found it quite ironic that he was planning to ride out in protection of what was basically his own reward money.

Heaving a sigh of regret for having to ride out in such weather, Diego tied on Zorro's mask, then eyed the remains of the flan still sitting on his desk.

Perhaps just one more bite...

Z Z Z

Zorro spent the next several hours in misery, tracking the Pasquez brothers while the rain from earlier turned into a penetrating drizzle that made tracking almost impossible. First he went to one canyon, only to be led by tracks he could barely distinguish to another, then led a third, and so on. Around midnight, he finally found himself in Los Angeles, watching in the tavern's flickering light as the Pasquez duo tried to rob the pueblo bank, just as he had predicted. Zorro glanced momentarily at the tavern, arrested by a sudden burst of revelry from the establishment, then grimaced as the odor of food washed over him. His stomach gave a painful twist before settling again into its normal sensations.

Strange; the smell of the tavern had never made his stomach twinge before. He didn't like it now, or ever. Twinges because of the tavern was like twinging at Victoria. He refused to entertain twinges to Victoria or her place of business. Determined to overcome this strange sensation, he rode nearer to the building on his way to stop the Pasquez brothers, expecting the actual roundup to be extremely simple, as the Pasquez brothers weren't the best bandits in California.

But the brothers proved to be much harder to catch than Zorro anticipated. He felt oddly sluggish throughout the entire encounter, and his stomach kept giving ominous rumbles every other minute. One second, he felt fine, and the next, he wanted to double over with severe stomach cramps. But Zorro couldn't get sick; Zorro _never_ got sick. Zorro had the reputation for not being visited by such mortal problems as illness. Therefore, he tried hard to round up the banditos for easy transport to the cuartel, but the lancers that he had come to help kept getting in the way. Beads of sweat eventually broke out under his mask, and the skin of his face grew stretched and cold. It was odd to be sweating and feel cold at the same time.

Zorro had just wondered if he had a fever and should head home when a wave of prickles suddenly erupted on his scalp under his hat. The wave seemed to finally settle in his stomach, which now refused to relax. Cramp after cramp attacked his stomach, threatening to bring him down into a truly helpless crouched position unless he did something about it immediately. If it became known that Zorro didn't feel good, that might lead the Alcalde to follow Dr. Hernandez to every sick person in the pueblo, keeping that man from doing his work. Sick people all over the Los Angeles area were unknowingly counting on him!

In desperation, he did something that he had always sworn never to do with a bandit; he swiftly disarmed his opponents, then brutally smashed his fist into each ones' face, probably creating bruises, certainly causing instant unconsciousness.

"They're all yours," he said to the three lancers running towards them. He didn't tie the bandits up, didn't carve his usual 'Z' into their shirts, didn't even stop to see if they were alive. He simply left the outlaws lying in the plaza dirt where they had fallen, and jumped aboard Toronado, spraying the pueblo in clouds of dust. He didn't consider stopping off at the tavern to say hello to Victoria, as he often did. The smell of food streaming from the inn was not doing kind things to his stomach. He just wanted to leave the pueblo behind before he did something truly embarrassing, like faint.

Toronado galloped madly from Los Angeles, and Zorro didn't engage in his typical backtracking, or attempt to lay misleading trails. He headed straight for the hacienda, hoping wildly that he wouldn't run into any more bandits before reaching the safety of the cave. Perhaps if he just ordered Toronado to gallop fast enough...

Despite how fast Toronado ran, Zorro realized even more quickly that he was fighting a losing battle. Horse and rider had traveled only a mile from the pueblo before he had to yank the horse to a halt right before leaning far over in Toronado's saddle to throw up.

 _Retching from the saddle... not what you want anyone to see._ He was clearly sick. His stomach gave another ominous rumble as he regained his balance in Toronado's saddle. For a brief moment, Zorro considered riding back to the tavern where he could appeal to Victoria's magnanimous nature and let her care for him. She would guard his hard-won reputation for being a man who never succumbed to illness all the while nursing him back from whatever was obviously ailing him. Letting Victoria be his nurse for the night was certainly an attractive idea. Besides, the thought of lying down was growing more appealing by the minute.

But there were too many people still frequenting the tavern for Zorro to feel comfortable returning to Los Angeles. He didn't wish to put Victoria in any more danger than she was already in, being only a stone's throw from the Alcalde's office on a daily basis. No, he would just have to continue on the course for home that he had already set, and hope that Felipe was still up and waiting for him in the cave. Between the two of them, they might...

Zorro's stomach heaved a second time, and he had to lean over in the saddle again as more cramps made him lose yet another meal. Feeling more miserable by the moment, Zorro wiped his mouth off with the back of his glove as Toronado moved in a mincing walk, avoiding the puddles of sick by smell alone.

Fortune was with him, and he didn't meet another person as Toronado walked sedately back to his supper of hay and oats. Yet, in spite of the easy riding, Zorro fought to remain in the saddle. He had given up on sitting his mount straight and tall, as he had been instructed since childhood, but grimly hung on to his horse's black mane. All he wanted was to lie down on the cot he kept in the cave, curl into a fetal position, and protect his stomach. At this point, he would even settle for lying on a blanket spread out over the hay in Toronado's stall. He just wanted to get off this rocking horse!

The cave had never seemed so far away, yet so heavenly once he finally reached it. He experienced another bout of good luck when Felipe greeted him the minute that Toronado halted in his stall. Zorro did his best to climb suavely out of the leather saddle, but instead nearly fell to the floor when a particularly severe stomach cramp attacked. The young man caught him, easing him down, where it was all he could do to keep Zorro upright long enough to lead him to the cot in the corner. He carefully let the bed take Zorro's weight, then let his mentor lay back until the single pillow cushioned his masked head. The black hat rolled under the cot and out of sight.

Felipe ripped the mask off to reveal Diego's pasty white face covered in sweat.

"Cold, amigo," Zorro said through teeth chattering loudly enough to shake down the cave's stone ceiling. He drew his arms in close to his body to conserve what warmth he could, even while groaning as another wave of cramps assaulted him.

Felipe tossed one of the wool blankets they kept in the cave for emergencies over Diego's prone form. Diego instantly pulled the material up to his chin, then groaned again. Felipe signed an anxious question.

"No doctor," Diego negated. "You know we can't risk that, Felipe."

Felipe's next question was obvious just from his hands held out in supplication.

"We don't do anything," Diego firmly told him. "I just have stomach cramps. It'll pass."

Felipe's anxious expression instantly disappeared, replaced by one of exasperation. *How much flan you eat?* he signed.

The query surprised Diego. "Flan? What does..?"

*How much?* Hands on hips, Felipe regarded him as his irritation increased.

"Um..." Diego concentrated hard. "Three... or four?"

Felipe made a circle in the air to indicate an entire flan, then sliced his hand through the circle to indicate half of it.

Diego replied, "Entire flans."

*Three? Four?* Felipe signed, making sure.

Diego winced. "Or five..." He couldn't forget that one he'd eaten with Sergeant Mendoza. "Maybe it was six."

Felipe held up six fingers and looked astonished, as if to say, * _Six_?*

Diego couldn't answer as another cramp doubled him up.

Felipe's solicitude vanished. He yanked the blanket up to Diego's chin, then firmly signed, *Serves you right! NO MORE FLAN!*

No more? But Victoria was sure to have some at her annual Christmas party next week. "Couldn't I..?

Felipe's hand slashed the air in uncharacteristic aggravation. *NO!*

Diego looked like the young man had kicked his puppy. "No?"

Felipe didn't bother to answer him, instead turning his back to grab the plate holding the remaining flan from Diego's desk prior to stomping out of the cave.

Diego waited patiently for Felipe to reappear, but ten minutes later, the teen still hadn't returned. "I guess he means business," Diego mumbled. Another cramp attacked. Diego breathed slowly through his mouth until the pain subsided. Then he sighed. "No more flan."

Diego sighed in instant regret. Christmas wasn't going to be the same, ever.

THE END


End file.
